


Meringue

by soundlessAria



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, I mean he's flustered in this entire fic lol, Kissing, M/M, VictUuri, Victuri, Vikturi, aka how ViktUri got together, and he kinda steered the situation to his advantage, basically just my excuse to write fluff, because again why not?, because why not?, flustered yuuri, in which Viktor discovered Yuuri's secret, mild kabedon i guess?, post Hasetsu on Ice, viktuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-28 00:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8423044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soundlessAria/pseuds/soundlessAria
Summary: Viktor was Yuuri's inspiration. Viktor was Yuuri’s support. Viktor was primarily the reason why Yuuri was so into figure skating.Viktor was Yuuri’s everything.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Episode 4 killed me. It was my ghost who wrote this trash.

After Yuuri won the “Hasetsu Exhibition: Hot Springs on Ice,” Viktor began coaching him just like he promised, despite the fact that it didn’t go well in the beginning as Yuuri immediately became anxious of everything–meeting Viktor’s standards, how he would win the Grand Prix Final after his devastating defeat, how he would pay Viktor’s coaching fee which he knew would cost him dearly (though Viktor said not to mind it for now), and probably ten or more other details that he could write down in as short as ten seconds.

That was how overwrought he was.

Still and all, it was an obvious fact that Yuuri was still at the pinnacle of his victory against Russia’s Yuri Plisetsky. An incongruous situation, certainly. But that victory, he knew, was short-lived, just like a thin ice that he had began to tread; it could break in an instant.

Just earlier that day, Yuuri tried his best to avoid Viktor, when the latter indirectly put forward the idea of spending more time together to, in Viktor’s own words, _get to know each other better_.

Anymore of their present interaction would probably cause the end of Yuuri’s life. After all, Viktor was the idol he profoundly revered in figure skating. He even named his departed poodle, Vicchan, after the Russian skater.

Everything still felt extremely unreal to him.

Yuuri was lying on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, waiting for someone to notify him that dinner was ready. He was so occupied with his own thoughts that he didn’t hear the careful knocks coming from the door of his room. Sedately, he drew the pillow to his side and hugged it against his chest. He buried his head into the soft cushion and rolled sideways to face the wall. And _he_ was there.

_Viktor._

Viktor was everywhere.

To be exact, Yuuri’s entire room was almost covered with Viktor’s images. If it were possible–and yes, it actually were–he would have already arranged for a made to order Viktor wallpaper. Except, he wasn’t that obsessed with his coach.

Or was he?

More importantly, he felt considerably embarrassed about it. After all, a male in his early twenties, if the person were in their right mind, wouldn’t, _wouldn’t_ ever have a room like his; a room filled with posters of Viktor Nikiforov.

However, Yuuri had long since accepted that he was different, and he was glad that he was actually different–that ever since he was a kid, he had greatly admired Viktor. And Viktor became the dream that he was chasing. And for that he was thankful.

Viktor became his inspiration every time he stepped into the rink. Viktor became Yuuri’s support, every time he fell into depression, into slump, and, most specially, after failing to qualify in major figure skating competitions. To sum it up, Viktor was primarily the reason why he was _so_ into the sport.

Viktor was Yuuri’s everything. Not that Viktor knew that. Nor would the gray-haired figure skater _would_ ever know that. Yuuri would rather he get swallowed by a sinkhole than tell Viktor that.

Amid Yuuri’s musings, the knocking on the other side of the door became louder. Still, he didn’t hear as he was so lost in contemplation.

Yuuri peeked from behind the pillow his arms were wrapped around, intently gandering at his palms as he repeatedly closed and opened them. “Viktor… He… He touched me…” The disjointed sentence was enough to set his cheeks on fire. “He held my hands,” he mumbled. His nerves ran rampant as he recounted the way Viktor’s hands slid down his arms then rubbed past his legs, when they were bathing on the hot springs the other night.

The ghosts of Viktors affectionate touches still lingered on Yuuri’s skin.

 _Affection_. Yuuri would like to deliberate over that Viktor’s intention wasn’t that at all. But, still, the sensation wouldn’t leave his mind, nor could his brain forget. His chest felt full whenever the thought accidentally crossed his mind; it was almost endearingly suffocating.

Yuuri, once more, buried his head into the pillow. Absentmindedly wriggling his left finger, he hummed against the soft cushion. “I… I also touched his hair… and it was so soft…” A certain kind of happiness welled deep inside his chest to the point that he was about to cry. “He’s really here… Viktor… is here… with me…” He sighed dreamily. “And Viktor… He… He even offered to be my… my boyfriend.” He felt even more happy uttering those words himself. _I-I can’t believe he actually suggested that! And I can’t believe I’m actually saying this!_ He inwardly screamed at his shameful thoughts. He lowered the pillow once more and wrapped his thighs around it. “Viktor is with me,” he repeated like a spell; as if it were a prayer that would make the very man himself appear before him.

And it did its work like a powerful charm.

 “Yuuri?”

Yuuri heard someone speak from behind him. And, from the way his name’s first syllable was spoken, he immediately knew who it was. He jumped, perched on his bed, completely startled at the unanticipated presence inside his room. He subconsciously pressed his back against the wall as he spluttered his reply with a dumbfounded expression. “V-Viktor!? W-What are you doing here!?” His cheeks flushed a deep red as he stared at Viktor. Though, it didn’t last for a long while, because he still wasn’t used to looking Viktor straight in the eyes. It was a good thing that he had turned the lights off in his room earlier, or else Viktor would’ve immediately noticed. Right now, only the soft glow of his computer served as the room’s illumination. 

For a second, Yuuri considered becoming a sorcerer if he ever failed to win the Grand Prix Final.

“I was worried, because you didn’t reply when I knocked. I also called your name quite a few times. Still, there were no replies. It’s strange for you to be already asleep this early, so I thought maybe you were hurt after that fall,” Viktor said, his face full of concern.

Yuuri saw, despite the dimness of his room. During his training earlier, he attempted to jump a quad. (Keyword: _attempted_.) He didn’t make it, and it, kind of, sucked. It was one of the reasons why he was dispirited at the moment. _Viktor is worried about me…_ He giddily thought to himself, but instantly made the idea disappear, after realizing what he had just done. _No, no, no! This isn’t the right time to be thinking of that!_

Viktor continued staring at Yuuri, fretting. “Also, when I tried to open the door, it wasn’t locked. I thought you had fainted from exhaustion. But considering your stamina, I believed it wasn’t from that. However…” He trailed. “Yuuri, are you hurting somewhere? It was because of that fall after all.”

“E-Eh?” Yuuri gasped, realizing that he didn’t answer Viktor the first time, causing the latter to become even more worried. “N-No! I was just so lost in thought that I didn’t hear you,” he replied, frantically waving his hands in front of him. “I apologize.”

Viktor pressed his palm against the downy bedding, simultaneously leaning forward with his right knee also on the bed. “Are you sure?” He asked, trying his luck to test whether Yuuri was lying or not.

Yuuri’s eyes widened as Viktor moved closer to him. “Y-Yes! I-I’m fine! I-It’s nothing to worry about!”

Viktor narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “You don’t sound fine to me. Your voice is shaky, to say the least. Did you contract the flu or something after all?” He gently placed his palm on Yuuri’s forehead to make sure.

 _I-It’s all because of you!_ Yuuri’s vision was swirling now. Maybe he really was about to get sick? He felt lightheaded and feverish with Viktor touching him so tenderly.

Viktor tilted his head sideways and placed a finger on his chin. “Hmm… You don’t feel that hot. Still, you’re warmer than usual,” he said. Raising a curious eyebrow, he continued. “Yuuri, did you overexert yourself again without telling… Ah–”

Yuuri confusedly blinked, when Viktor cut off his scolding mid-sentence. Finally, he decided to raise his head and meet Viktor’s gaze. However, when he saw the way Viktor was looking past him with his enthralling blue eyes, he realized his mistake; his grave mistake of not pushing Viktor out of his room the very moment his mind registered that he was there.

“Yuuri~” Yuuri’s name coquettishly rolled out of Viktor’s lips. Then, came his playful chuckle.

Yuuri immediately threw the pillow he had been hugging aside. He turned his back against Viktor, utterly mortified, and spread his arms as far as he could in an attempt to cover the embarrassing items attached on the wall of his room. But, of course, it wasn’t enough to shield the entire wall. He inwardly chided himself for throwing the pillow as it would’ve helped him in covering his shameful secret– aka _the posters_ –if only he didn’t mindlessly threw it. “U-Uhmm…” His voice quivered in panic. “T-this isn’t h-how it looks like, I swear! I-It’s n-not what you think it is!”

Another chuckle slipped past Viktor’s lips, followed by an impish grin.

Despite Yuuri not facing Viktor, he somewhat had an idea how the latter looked. It made his blood run cold as he thought up of ways to cover everything up, but to no avail. _O-Oh god! Why didn’t I–_ He unconsciously began to scrape at the end of one of the posters with his index finger. He was trembling, but that was the least of his concerns at the moment. “I-I wasn’t stalking you or anything! It’s just that I’ve greatly admired you, since I was a kid. I-I think, you know that already. A-And I, kind of, j-just got inspired whenever I see your face, and it… it reached the point where I began collecting these… these things–’’

Viktor’s face was incomprehensible as he listened at Yuuri’s failed attempts to make his way out of the current situation. He knew how Yuuri was wholly embarrassed, but a certain kind of feeling tugged at his chest, during that moment. Yuuri was the only one who could stir him up like this. Worry, contentment, endearment; Yuuri was the only one who could make him feel this way. Okay, maybe also figure skating, but the feeling Yuuri ignited within him, each time the latter introduced him to different kinds of things, was different. It felt like everything he experienced with Yuuri, he experienced for the first time. His chest felt filled to the brim.

“–and, b-before I knew it, this, kind of, just happened–” Yuuri kept awfully garbling that it became even more embarrassing. _Oh god what am I even saying!?_ It seemed like his thoughts weren’t going to be in order for a while. Amid his internal dilemma, he felt a presence crept up from behind him. Suddenly, he found a hand pressed against the wall, on the right side of his face. He didn’t dare to look at the hand. Gradually, the presence became heavier.

Viktor’s chest was now pressed against his back.

Viktor teasingly blew on Yuuri’s exposed neck, earning him delicious shudders from the latter. His breath ghosted on Yuuri’s ear. He stayed in that position for a few moments as he was too intoxicated in watching Yuuri’s stunned expression. Finally, he resolved to drop the last key. “So, tell me, Yuuri. How does it feel to have the real thing before you?” He asked, his voice seductively low and goading.

Yuuri felt his heart in his mouth. He tried to form a coherent response, but failed in doing so.

Viktor smiled and, finally, _finally_ he retreated, removing his hand from the wall. He fondly gazed at Yuuri and waited.

And _waited_.

Yuuri, eventually, decided to face Viktor. He turned, but still didn’t settle to meet his gaze. He awkwardly cleared his throat a few times before he spoke. “I… I’m glad…” He fiddled with the bedsheet. “I-I’m glad that you’re here, Viktor… with me.” Yuuri coyly dragged his fingers through his hair, his cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of red.

It made Viktor smile. Everything Yuuri did made Viktor smile.

“Me, too, Yuuri,” Viktor said as he cupped Yuuri’s cheek with his hand, gently caressing the soft skin with his thumb. “I’m glad that I’m here.” Slowly, he pulled Yuuri, closing the distance between them. “Can I?” He asked, intently looking at Yuuri’s brown eyes.

Yuuri weakly nodded.

Viktor pressed a light kiss against Yuuri’s lips.

The two of them stayed like that for a while. Yuuri’s lips pressed against Viktor’s, Viktor’s against his. They shared no deep kisses.

At least, for now.

But, it was enough to feel that the other was there, that they were there with each other. They just felt each other’s warmth with their connected lips, embracing the moment dearly, unselfishly, making sure that it wouldn’t disappear.

Yuuri was the one who pulled back first. He laced his fingers with Viktor’s. He nibbled on his lower lip, so that his smile wouldn’t give away his true feelings. Still, he ended up smiling at the way he fumbled to touch Viktor’s hand. And at the way Viktor returned his touch.

Viktor’s lips also curled upwards. “So, the talk about being your boyfriend?” He asked.

Yuuri noticeably flinched at the question. He almost, _almost_ stopped from bashfully rubbing the back of Viktor’s hand with his finger.

Viktor tightly clasped Yuuri’s hand, so the other wouldn’t be able to let go.

Yuuri quietly sighed in defeat. He fell to his side, flopping back into his bed, and hid his eyes behind his left palm. He nodded.

“Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> sEnd hAlp–
> 
> (This is unedited.)


End file.
